


Bad Behaviour

by beltainefaerie



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Kneeling On Rice, M/M, Punishment, cleaning as punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9218663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: Sherlock was a brat and John Watson is having none of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Tiger_in_the_flightdeck and Merindab for betaing this silliness. This is super short, but I'm working to get out of this block by cleaning out some old scribbles as I get back into the habit of writing daily and posting at least monthly. We'll see how it goes! I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Note: Something weird happened in upload and I think I grabbed an old version. there were several typos and one sentence that trailed off. Eep. Sorry. It's been fixed now.

John’s whole body was rigid. Sherlock had never seen him like this. He leaned in and hissed in Sherlock’s ear, low enough that the cab driver couldn’t hear, “When we get home, you will go upstairs and get on your knees. You’ll stay there, head up, and actually attentive until I tell you otherwise.”

Sherlock nodded almost imperceptibly at that, then turned to look out the window.

When they arrived, Sherlock scurried from the cab as John paid and made his leisurely way upstairs. 

Sherlock knelt in the middle of the floor nearly naked. His eyes were wide, though the subtle difference between startled and aroused at this stage was hard to parse. John’s eyes dipped lower. Ah. Perhaps a bit of both, judging by the state of his pants. 

“No one told you to undress,” John said, tipping Sherlock’s chin up higher. “You need to understand that I’m not playing right now, Sherlock. Listen, and listen well or this ends. All of it.”

Sherlock’s gaze sharpened. John was teetering on the edge between calmly annoyed and livid, his posture stiff, his fist clenching and releasing. He hadn’t even taken off his jacket or gloves yet, all his attention focused on Sherlock. John had all his attention in return.

“What was that back there, hmm?” John asked, but it was clearly rhetorical as he continued on after only the slightest pause. “If I ever see such a display of blatant disrespect, in public no less, that isn’t part of an act or disguise for a case, I will have you scrubbing the bathroom floor with a toothbrush.”

“That would hardly be efficient,” Sherlock sneered.

“You’re catching on,” John said, even though it was clear his stroppy sub had only the barest inkling. “It wouldn’t be efficient. It wouldn’t be fun. It certainly wouldn’t be sexy. It wouldn’t be anything, but the punishment you deserve.”

Sherlock glowered.

“And once it was done, without complaint, and scrubbed until it was gleaming, I might consider fucking you again. It could take days and days before it was done right.”

Sherlock had let his gaze fall slightly, though his head hadn’t moved. He looked up sharply, his mouth dropping open, taken aback.

“Does that surprise you? God, you really were trying to get a rise out of me? Trying to goad me into, what? Dragging you back here, beating and fucking you? ” John chuckled darkly, “No, you like that far too much. I’m not playing games here. Follow my rules or don’t. Let me take you apart and I promise I’ll always stay to put you back together. But if you can’t control yourself, what makes you think I want to? Bad behaviour won’t get you a little spanking and fuck. It isn’t foreplay to me. Bad behaviour gets nothing at best and, well,” John’s voice lowered to a growl, “Let’s just say you don’t want to see worst.”

Sherlock swallowed hard and nodded, for once chastened.

John buried his fingers in those lush soft curls and pulled. “You weren’t a sub before, were you? Not really. Just a little, bratty fucktoy.” He ran his leather clad thumb over Sherlock’s lower lip, making him shiver.  “Bet they put up with you for that gorgeous cocksucking mouth. For that and other tricks, I'm sure. And not one of them cared if that beautiful body housed the world’s most brilliant mind, but I do. They just let you get away with whatever shit you wanted to pull, hmm? Went home after and ‘taught you a lesson’. They did, but not like they thought.  Lessons I have to unteach. But I know that you can do better. You just think you don’t have to.” He leant down and kissed Sherlock gently, looking into his eyes. “Well, if you want me, you do.”

Sherlock looked up at him with awe. “I do. I promise I’ll be good for you from now on.”

“Alright,” John smiled, ruffling his hair. “It’s not entirely your fault, since it worked before. Conditioned response and all that. Still, I do expect decent behaviour from now on.” 

Sherlock met his gaze. He could hear in John’s tone that he wasn’t finished and Sherlock was fairly certain he wouldn’t like what came next.

“You do still need to be punished for today. I’ll be nicer than the floor scrubbing. This time. And, if you take it well, I might even fuck you tomorrow.” 

Sherlock’s face fell, but he took a deep breath and stopped short of actually pouting. “Yes, Captain Watson, sir”

John’s mind had been racing since the first sign of tantrum back at the Yard. Sherlock was a masochist and John had yet to find an implement he didn’t like. Canes, crops, pinwheels, floggers, anything he had tried, all elicited moans or at least kept him hard even when he cried out in apparent agony. But he hated anything boring, and even minor discomforts sometimes seemed unendurable if he was in a mood. 

“Ah, there’s my good boy. You may get up. Stretch if you need to, then come to the kitchen.” John finally stripped off his gloves and tucked them in his jacket pocket before hanging it on the coat rack. He strode off into the kitchen without a backward glance as Sherlock got to his feet.

John dug in the pantry and smiled as he found a bag of rice.  “You’ve wasted my time today, so I think a little task is in order.” As Sherlock looked on in horror John upended the bag, spilling a third of its contents out in a pile, much of which skittered off across the lino. “You’ll sweep the whole floor, of course, but first…” John paused and set an egg timer. “Kneel.”

Sherlock looked from the pile of rice to John and back again. He opened his mouth, but shut it again before he said anything he’d regret and slowly knelt.

“When the timer goes off you can start sweeping. Mind, if I find any grains of rice left, you can try it again from the beginning. Any questions?”

Sherlock shook his head, not trusting himself to speak as the tiny grains dug into his knees and shins. 

John sat in Sherlock’s chair and began to read, glancing up now and again to drink in the sight of Sherlock finally doing just as he was told.

Towards the end, Sherlock's breath was reduced to soft, slow hisses from between out his teeth, but he didn't complain.

When the timer was finished, he gingerly rose to his feet, rubbing his knees to soothe the marks and dislodge a few grains of rice, then fetched the broom and dustpan.

John smiled to himself as he watched Sherlock work, sweeping the floor thoroughly. He even remembered to move aside the table and chairs and check beneath. When that was finished and he had shaken all the grains into the bin, Sherlock gazed around once more, scrutinizing the space for any stray grains. He took a couple steps toward the broom cupboard before stopping. He set set the dustpan on the countertop and propped the broom against it and honestly proceeded to move the oven and sweep behind it. 

With the way Sherlock was acting, John counted the punishment a success, though he wouldn’t know for sure until they were in public again.

“Ready for inspection?” he inquired and Sherlock stood up straighter. 

“Yes Captain, sir.”

John made a show of inspecting every nook and cranny, but found not one grain of rice. He drew Sherlock into his arms and kissed him. “Very good, Sherlock.”

He drew Sherlock over to the couch and tucked him close "And next time you want something?”

“I’ll tell you,” Sherlock said, laying his head against John's shoulder.

“That’s right. I love you and our scenes. You don’t have to be a tit to get that.”


End file.
